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Except.
But.
Even after they’d told him the target—the terrorist mastermind—was young, he’d been unprepared for how deeply that would affect him afterward. They’d recovered plans for a biological warfare agent from the target’s compound, so he knew he’d done the right thing, unquestionably.
Except.
But.
That young face. Bacon was carrying that one to his grave. And eventually it would get easier. He knew that. He’d do his time with the psych, and this here, with Spencer, helped a great deal, having a place where he could come fall apart, as hard as it was to admit he needed that.
“You’re awake again,” Spencer mumbled, pulling Bacon close. “Are you hungry? I could heat up some soup and tea, see if that helps. When did you eat last?”
“Not sure. My sense of time is all fucked up. On the flight back. A snack. I think.”
“You’re eating.” Spencer flipped on the bedside light, casting the room in its pale, warm glow. “You’ll sleep better with some food in you.”
“You sound like my mom.” Bacon laughed, a weak, rusty sound. Spencer slipped on his black terrycloth robe, then fussed over him when he tried to follow him out of bed.
“Here. It’s chilly.” He draped a fuzzy blanket around Bacon’s shoulders. “Wrap up in this.”
Spencer heated the soup on the stove while he toasted some bread in the toaster oven and put the kettle on for tea. His quiet efficiency went a long way to soothing Bacon, who settled himself at the breakfast bar on a stool. Spencer set a mug of something herbal and minty in front of him, along with a bowl of creamy orange soup.
“Squash?”
“Butternut, yes. It’s got a little curry powder in it, but it’s not too spicy.” He slid Bacon a piece of crusty bread, which he used to dip in the steaming soup.
“Not bad. Bread’s good too.” Simply being here like this, talking, food, helped. He ate awhile in silence, just absorbing the good energy of this place and this man. “Maybe I can cook for you for a change tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to go right back?” Spencer looked up from his tea.
“Nah. I’ve got an appointment with the psych on Friday, but we’re all taking some leave to regroup before we ramp up again.”
“That’s good—both the leave and the psych. I’m glad they have someone to help you.”
“You help too,” Bacon admitted. “Probably more than whatever affirmations or breathing exercises she’s going to prescribe.”
“I’m glad.” Spencer squeezed his hand. “Del...” He trailed off and chewed his lip in a very un-Spencer-like fashion.
“Yeah?”
“You ever think about leaving the teams? Going private security, like your friends? You might have less...conflict then. Easier missions.”
“Fuck no.” Bacon shook his head, not liking where this was headed. “Just because I had one bad mission doesn’t mean I’m ready to not re-up or something. I’m a lifer. Always planned on doing my twenty, at least, then taking my retirement and doing something outdoors like whitewater guide. Being a rich person’s security detail is not my idea of fun at all. And I’m way too young to think about hanging it up yet.”
“I figured.” Spencer’s smile was more than a little sad. “Sorry if I was out of line.”
“You weren’t,” Bacon said gruffly. “I know it’s not easy, being with someone on the teams. I wish I could make it easier on you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Really.” Spencer patted him again.
“And actually, before I fell apart on you, I was going to tell you my other news. Relates to me being a lifer. I made chief. No way am I getting out anytime soon. I’ve waited a long damn time for this.”
“That’s wonderful.” Spencer’s wide smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Undaunted, Bacon pressed on. “They make kind of a big deal of the change in rank with a ceremony. It’s in two weeks. I was wondering if you’d come down—”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Bacon had been expecting that reaction and still groaned. “I get you not wanting to be around the team as a couple yet.”
“A couple? I thought you weren’t out as pan to your team?” Spencer’s eyes looked ready to pop out and roll across his hardwood floors.
Bacon had thought and thought about this while on the mission. “It’s well past time. Like I said, I haven’t had much reason to before. But I’ve got you now, and I don’t want to hide away forever. You could come, and maybe we ease people into us being a thing by mentioning that we’ve kept friendly. Then you can go out to dinner with my mom and me after the ceremony. I really want you to meet her.”
“You want me to meet your mom?” Spencer blinked. His continued disbelief was starting to grate. “Like as your boyfriend?”
“No. As my personal trainer. What do you think, Spencer? We’ve spent all my leave together for months now, neither of us is sleeping around with anyone else, and we care about each other. I think any outside observer would call us boyfriends at this point, right, Mr. Investigative Reporter?” Yeah, he was getting a little heated, and he pushed his soup away so that he could stand and pace.
